Page:Real Virginny melodist.pdf/20

 20 When chery ting was still, I thought I saw my Sambo dear, Come running down the hill, His teeth look snow-white in his mouf, And jet black was his eye, Says I, I'm coming to the Sout, 0, Sambo don't you cry. I soon will go to New Orleans, And then I'll look for thee, And if I find my Sambo dear, How happy we shall be: But if I do not find him, Poor Lucy 'll surely die, And when I'm dead and buried, O, Sambo don't you cry.

BOATMAN OF THE OHIO. De spring ob de year hab gone at last, De fishing time hab gone and past Four an' twenty boatman sitting on der rock, Shooting at de seagulls all in a flock. Dace de boatman dance, Dance de boatman dance, We'll dance all night in de pale moonlight And go home wid de galls in de mornin. O yoe ! de boatmen row, Floating down de riber ob de Ohio. Oh, de boatman dance, de boatman sing, De boatman slick to ebery ting When de boatman go ashore, Him spend de money, den fish for more. Dance, &c. De boatman him de pink o' de man, Nouc make lub like de boatman can Him neber see a pretty girl in all him life But she was sure be boatman's wife. Dance &c. Dan if to oall him chance to go An' dance to de trump ob de ole banjo,